


The Stars and Strings That Bind Us

by daddarios



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-02-21 21:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13152360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daddarios/pseuds/daddarios
Summary: Ever since Dmitry was a young boy he could see the red strings around the pinkies of others that tied them to their soulmates. The only exception? He could not see his. Bound to a life of loneliness, Dmitry tried to make the most of it by doing what he did best: conning others. It isn't until Vlad begins to form the plans for creating a fake Grand Duchess Anastasia with one reluctant Dmitry that leads the conman to meeting one stubborn street sweeper that might make his life just a bit less lonely.That is, until he sees the vibrant red string around her own pinky.





	1. 001

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first fic I've written in awhile so I'm a bit rusty, but this wonderful pairing is worth it. I'd like to dedicate this to everyone in the wonderful dklenz squad! I love y'all, thank you for encouraging me to do this and giving me so many ideas to add into this fic. It wouldn't have become a reality without all of you, so thank you! You're some of the best friends a girl could wish for. Shout-out to Vicky for the beautiful title and Em for betaing this for me! Enjoy!

When Dmitry was just a boy he started to notice something odd going on around him. At first he thought that maybe it was normal and everyone could see it and that’s why they would just ignore it. It wasn’t until he was walking alongside his father down the streets of their neighborhood that he realized maybe he wasn’t exactly normal.

“Papa, why is yours black?”

”My _what_ , Dima?” Dmitry’s father's, Nikolai, voice was painted with mild amusement and confusion.

“The string around your finger! It’s black, not red like other people!” As if to prove his point, the young boy tugged on his father’s hand and grasped at his pinky finger. His face screwed up into an unhappy pout when he couldn’t grab at the string. He’d tried sneakily to do this many times before while passing people on the streets of Petersburg, but never succeeded.

The confusion only deepened on Nikolai’s face as he took in Dmitry’s earnest expression. “You can see the string, Dima?” He paused when the boy nodded and let out a soft sigh, “It’s black because your mama is no longer with us. She’s my--she _was_ my soulmate. That’s what that string means.”

Dmitry had never been more confused in his life. “What’s a soulmate?”

“A soulmate is someone you’re meant to be with for all of your life, someone you’ll marry one day. They’re going to be your very best friend and they’ll always love you the most.” Despite the sad smile on Nikolai’s face, he lightly tapped Dmitry’s button nose and got a giggle and a grin out of the boy.

“Where’s _my_ string and _my_ soulmate?” Dmitry asked excitedly.

The confusion returned to Nikolai’s face. “What do you mean, Dima? Can you not see your string?”

”I don’t have one, Papa!” He wiggled his hand around as if that would make the string magically appear in his line of sight.

“..Oh. That is--” There was no delicate way you could possibly explain such a thing to a six year old. That having no string meant that you were one of the unfortunate few who _didn’t have_ a soulmate. How could you crush a boy’s spirit like that after filling them with such wonder and excitement a few moments prior? The dread had filled Nikolai and he was unsure of how to approach it. Maybe one day Dmitry could understand, but today wasn’t that day.

“That just means you’re different, Dima. You’re special, especially with how you can see others strings. One day it’ll all make sense.” Nikolai winked at his son who beamed back at him, tendrils of guilt wrapping tight around his heart at the lonely future he knew would occur for his son.

“Special how?” He prodded, not letting go of the conversation.

“Special because you’re an intelligent young boy who has an ability that no one else has. You’re special just because you’re _you_ , Dima. There’s no one out there who’s like you, so be proud of that, be proud of who you are and who you’ll become.”

Dmitry smiled brightly and hugged his father’s legs. The man chuckled and smoothed a hand over his son’s dark brown hair. “I love you, Dima. Now, come along. We have to try to get something for dinner before dark.”

“Okay! I love you too, Papa.” Dmitry pulled back and followed alongside his father happily, completely unaware of the quiet guilt radiating from the man beside him.

*******

Nikolai had been right about one thing; everything did make sense for Dmitry one day. It wasn’t until after his father was ripped away from him and he was left all on his own just at eight years old that he realized this is how the rest of his life would be.

His mother? Gone.

His father? Now gone as well.

His string didn’t even _exist._ He would’ve been able to see it like every other string out there if he had it, _right_ ? So that meant there was no future best friend he was to marry waiting on the other side of this seemingly never ending hard life for him. He was going to have to do this all by himself and there was no way around it. He wasn’t _special_ , far from it. He was just doomed to a life of seeing everyone else be happy while he got to be alone for the rest of his days to come.

It wasn’t fair. Then again, when _was_ life ever fair? Especially to one Dmitry Sudayev.

*******

Luck seemed to change for Dmitry two years later. He was ten years old and while he was roughing it in the streets of Petersburg and struggling to stay alive from time to time, he was managing. Well, as well as one could do while being a child who was completely on their own. Today would be better though, Dmitry just knew it.

There was to be a parade today in town. The Romanovs were due to be in the parade for all of St. Petersburg to see. Dmitry knew that this was a prime opportunity to pickpocket and find himself set for his next few meals at least. Either that, or he could barter the items he stole for a new blanket. The one he had currently was rather itchy and starting to gain holes in it. He needed today more than anything. Today would be a good one, he just knew it deep in his bones that something good would happen. He’d make sure of it.

The crowd was bigger than he had anticipated, but that wasn’t a bad thing. There were thousands gathered in the streets and while it might seem a tight squeeze for some, Dmitry was small enough that he could slip in between the people and get by without a second glance. He didn’t really care much for the real reason behind the parade, determined to just get something he could use for buying himself at least one loaf of bread.

His left hand was sneaking into the pocket of a man to try to steal whatever money he might have hidden in there when there was a sudden sharp burning sensation in his pinky and down the left side of his hand. He yelped and stumbled away from the man, quickly cradling his hand to his chest. Dmitry was frightened, this was a sort of pain he had never felt before and he was wary to look at what may be happening to his hand. Reluctantly, his right hand fell away from clutching his left to his chest and his dark eyes examined the skin. His heart started to hammer rapidly in his chest and all breath left him at once.

There was a red string attached to his pinky finger.

He had a soulmate? He wasn’t going to be alone the rest of his life?

Dmitry was suddenly shaken out of his stupor when he realized that his string led straight ahead and was seemingly tugging him in that direction. There was a pull in his gut and he knew he had to follow it, so he started to run. He was dodging between all the people and got closer to the street where the carriage carrying the Romanov family was and held out his hand to see the string had shortened and led right to one of the girls on the carriage. Anastasia.

“Anastasia!” The boy called out, dodging in between the guards who were trying to stop him from getting too close to the family.

The little girl immediately looked over right as Dmitry paused, his hand still outstretched toward her. He felt his heart stutter as the girl seemed to struggle to keep her warm smile at bay, only for it to break through and tug across her lips. He laughed breathlessly and grinned widely, hurriedly moving to bow at the edge of the street before her. Dmitry had never felt so giddy, his heart all but hammering right out of his chest.

The sun shining bright caught Dmitry off guard when he looked up from his bowing position, blinding him momentarily. It was long enough for the guards to catch up and tug him away from the edge of the street, pushing him back into the crowd. He tried to peer around them as he fought against their hold to find Anastasia again, but the carriage was gone.

Despite the parade continuing on and Anastasia no longer being in sight Dmitry knew one thing for sure: he had a soulmate. He wasn’t doomed to a life of loneliness..or so he thought.

*******

It was nine years later that Dmitry’s mind was drawn back to his soulmate, and not in a good way.

There wasn’t a day that passed that didn’t have Dmitry dwelling on the thought of his soulmate being in the same city as him, but still being so out of reach. He had tried formulating different plans ever since that fateful day at the parade to try to meet her again, but nothing ever seemed to work when thought through. He wasn’t going to give up. He’d do anything he could to find her again and be able to actually hold her, see their red string that connected them tangled between their feet. Dmitry had thought that one day he’d be able to find her again and they could be together.

Fate had a cruel reality in store for him instead.

While out on the streets of his beloved city, attempting to talk his way into an unfair trade that leaned to his advantage, he felt that sharp burning sensation in his left hand he hadn’t felt since he was ten. He had dropped the can of vegetables he was holding in surprise and a curse left the young man’s lips. His eyes darted to his left hand and his knees buckled, crashing to the ground below him.

“No, no, no!” Dmitry yelled, a sob getting lodged in his throat as he shakily held his hand to his chest. “Nastya..” He all but whimpered, tears filling his dark eyes.

His string was gone once again. His _soulmate_ was gone.


	2. 002

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter was a BEAST to write. It may not seem like it, but I struggled hardcore with it and my writers block. I wanted to give a special shout-out to my beta, Em. Thank you for helping me talk through this chapter and not letting me scrap the entire thing and start over like I wanted to. I love you! Enjoy everyone. :-)

It had been ten years since Dmitry witnessed his string disappear once again. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, that within time he would come to accept the fact that he had a soulmate for a short time, only for her to disappear out of his life. That wasn’t the case.

 

*******

Dmitry was barely in his twenties and yet he was so painfully bitter at the world. If he wanted to be more precise it’d be couples he was bitter at. He was trying to make it out of Petersburg—or _Leningrad_ as it had been renamed. (How stupid, Dmitry thought, Leningrad, like he would ever stop calling it Petersburg despite the glares and tense warnings from the Bolshevik officers who seemed to be at every turn and corner.) It was a struggle every day to try to scrape up enough money to get his own papers while people came to him almost every day in their own attempt to do so. It always seemed to be couples which had him souring the moment he would see a pair walk in, the now short string between them connecting the couple.

He didn’t get to have that anymore, not since his string once again disappeared that fateful night a few years prior. Instead, he got to sit and watch couples giggle and beam at each other with a sense of unadulterated love that had his jaw clenching in disgust. The curtness in his tone was all too present each time he dealt with a couple who begged him with papers and offered him all the money they had. Admittedly, he may not try as hard when it came to couples to getting papers. Was it selfish? Yes, it was, but there was a deep bitterness in Dmitry at the happiness of others getting flaunted in his face. Although, they didn’t know they were flaunting it each time a pair came to him for papers and their strings were tangled together at their feet. Dmitry was angry, that much was clear. There were days he would ask himself why did they get to have that and he didn’t? Why was it that he got handed bad hand after bad hand and the one shot at happiness he had was so harshly ripped away?

Watching couples walk away in glee when he finally managed to get papers for them left a hollow feeling in his chest. His fingers on his left hand absently would curl up into a fist as his thumb ran over his pinky finger like the touch would somehow coax his string to appear and bring Nastya along with it.

 

*******

It didn’t help that people began to notice as Dmitry got older that he was alone.

“Dmitry is _twenty-five_ and still has yet to find his soulmate. Poor boy.” A woman whispered to her sister while hurriedly passing the young man in question.

“Mariya told me that her cousin up in England was born without having a soulmate. Maybe that’s what’s happened to him.” The reply came as Dmitry’s foot collided with a trashcan in anger. The women yelped and hurried along, muttering under their breath no doubt more about the young man. His temper didn’t tend to flare easily, but the subject of his soulmate was a touchy one. His breaths were coming more rapidly as his face turned red, fingers curling into loose fists.

He _hated_ this, hated how six years later and the wound of losing Nastya still had yet to scab over. It was still as fresh as the day he felt the burning pain in his left hand and saw the string disappear that had been once so vibrant red and alive with the connection between them.

Dmitry hadn’t realized he was starting to cry until Vlad’s heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He choked out a weak laugh and wiped at his face with the back of his glove covered hand. Vlad gave his young friend a sympathetic smile, knowing how raw the feelings were still of losing his soulmate. The older man still wasn’t sure who even was Dmitry’s soulmate, he had never said. Vlad didn’t want to pry and cause the man more pain after finally opening up a few years after saving him from the Bolshevik firing squad that was seconds away from killing him.

Dmitry had saved his life and one day, Vlad would do his best to return the favor.

 

*******

The day Vlad finally found a way to repay Dmitry for his rash act of kindness came a few years later.

The only thing that seemed to keep the people of St. Petersburg from going absolutely stir crazy was the gossip. There was nonstop chatter of all sorts of different kinds of gossip on the streets and in the neighborhood Dmitry and Vlad inhabited. One that especially was popular was the rumor of the Grand Duchess Anastasia who may still be alive out there.

That sort of gossip was one Vlad tended to pay no mind to. After all, the Romanovs had been killed ten years ago, all of them. There was no doubt in his mind that it was gossip and just that. Today was no different. Vlad was reading over a newspaper, a groan falling from his lips to find that another border had been closed. He had been trying his best with Dmitry’s help to get them out of Russia time after time, but it had never panned out. Some sort of factor, money mostly, had to play into why they weren’t able to. Now he had to go inform his young friend that they had missed their chance to leave Russia, _again_.

“I heard that she managed to escape with only a few wounds and is still in Russia!” Vlad heard a voice exclaim nearby that tore his attention from his reading.

He rolled his eyes and folded his paper with a huff. The rumors never ended in town and this always would be a hot topic it seemed.

“Well _I_ heard that her grandmama will pay quite handsomely for whoever can return her granddaughter back to her!”

Now _that_ caught Vlad’s attention. Ideas began to form in his head and a delighted grin lit up his face. He had finally figured a way out of Russia. He just had to get Dmitry to agree to his plan.

 

*******

“What’s that look for?” Dmitry inquired when his friend hurried into the abandoned palace they had taken up residence in.

“Another border closed, but I’ve figured out exactly how we’re going to get out of here finally!”

Dmitry perked up at that and a grin spread on his face. “Really? Did you get us papers?”

Vlad faltered at that. “Well, no, not _yet_ anyways.”

“Then how exactly are we going to get out of here?” Dmitry questioned, brow furrowing in confusion.

“I’ve been thinking about the Grand Duchess Anastasia—”

Dmitry immediately groaned and rolled his eyes. “Not you too! I thought you were above all that stupid gossiping—”

“No, no! Listen!” Vlad interrupted and grabbed Dmitry’s shoulder, “Everyone knows those rumors, legend if you will, but she’s exactly how we’re going to get out of here. We’ll find a girl to play the part, teach her what to say, dress her up and take her to Paris.”

Dmitry looked slightly pale and Vlad didn’t understand why. The guilt was instantly gnawing at the younger man. He knew it was a bad idea and he also knew that Nastya would be beyond disappointed in him if she ever found out about him using her like this for his own gain. That thought in itself had a heavy weight resting on his chest.

“I don’t know, Vlad. I doubt it’d work, besides it’s just a _rumor_. She’s not really alive.”

“Her grandmama refuses to believe yet she’s dead and still has hope she’s still alive! We find a way out of Russia _and_ we’ll be _rich_. Just imagine the reward, Dmitry! No one else could pull this off but you and me.” Vlad insisted.

Dmitry was silent, jaw ticking as he mulled over the idea and struggled with his decision.

‘ _I’m sorry, Nastya_.’ Dmitry thought to himself before he sighed and managed a weak nod.

“Where do we start?”

Vlad grinned and steered Dmitry out of the palace back out onto the streets of Petersburg. “We find something to convince her grandmother that the girl we have parading around as Anastasia is actually her.”

Dmitry and Vlad found themselves in the usual auctioning place of the people who claimed to have real Romanov owned objects for sell. Dmitry’s dark eyes scanned over the group of men who were vying for the attention of anyone they could earn a quick buck off of. He paused, taking in the music box one man held and his head tilted slightly to the side in a thoughtful manner.

“How much is that music box?” He asked, approaching the man.

“Ah, the music box! It’s _genuine_ Romanov, I could never part with it!” The man claimed, eyes widening in shock that was painfully apparent was faked. This man really had to learn to be a better actor.

“Two cans of beans, comrade?” Dmitry said in a mock singsong tone, pulling the two cans of beans out of his bag hung over his shoulder and sat them on the podium the man was leaned against. He had been saving in case he had really wanted something and guessed this was as good of a time as ever.

“ _Done_.”

The music box was tossed in Dmitry’s direction and he quickly caught it, eyes examining it and the intricate design. Vlad adjusted his glasses as he gazed down at the music box in Dmitry’s hand, a giddy grin appearing on his face.

“Now, my young friend, we find ourselves an Anastasia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pinky promise next chapter we’ll finally get to meet Anya!! (again ;-) )


	3. 003

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Bet you didn’t expect an update so soon, huh? Me either, frankly. This one just kinda happened rather quickly.  
> Thanks for sticking with me and leaving all the lovely comments! Nothing makes me happier than to see how much you all enjoy my take on the wonderful show from not just Dmitry’s perspective, but with the added twist of soulmates. :-) This chapter is pretty dialogue heavy, a good majority of the dialogue coming from the show itself with a few adjustments here and there. It’s longer than the other two so I hope that and the early update makes up for the bit of a wait you had to endure for chapter two. Hope you enjoy and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

While Dmitry hadn’t ever considered himself an actor in the slightest he knew how to at least be convincing while lying. That helped him one too many times while attempting to get himself out of trouble. Vlad always went on about being the biggest fake of them all and told Dmitry plenty stories of how he had managed to convince other royals he was some sort of count. You would think between the two con men that they could manage to find at least _one_  girl who they could pass off as Anastasia.

That task was showing to be rather difficult in itself.

“I am the Grand Duchess, Anastasia Romanova!” The woman exclaimed in an overly played up tone with her arms flung out with such bad acting that had both Vlad and Dmitry cringing.

“Try it again, but this time __without__ the gum in your mouth.” Dmitry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt the dull thud of pain starting to bloom behind his eyes.

“It’s not gum, it’s tobacco.” The woman huffed and walked over to her two friends who were sitting down in the abandoned palace, having done their own ‘audition’ already.

Dmitry sighed heavily and dropped his hand to his lap, turning in his chair to look back at Vlad. “These are the last three, Vlad?” Exasperation was dripping from the man’s words.

“I don’t know what you expected, Dmitry. Sarah Bernhardt?” Vlad huffed and rolled his eyes, looking down at his clipboard with the notes he had been making after each woman had auditioned.

Dmitry had to bite his tongue to prevent a snarky remark from slipping out and simply settled for a heavy sigh. He turned back around to face the woman as she made her way back to the middle of the room, arms outstretched again.

“It’s me, Grandmama! Your __precious__ Anastasia!” She exclaimed, arms outstretched once more. Her hands came back to press to her chest as a dramatic gasp fell from her lips, “They __shot__  me, but I lived and I came all the way to tell you that I’m alive!” She stalked toward Dmitry and dramatically fell to her knees before him, hands coming to rest on his knees as she pressed into his space.

Dmitry’s head instantly dropped with a groan, unsure if he could take one more horrendous audition to make Vlad’s plan a reality. He knew it was a long shot and his expectations were much too high of all the women they had seen. No one could ever manage to pull off the grace and dignity that he associated with Nastya. These women all but making a __mockery__  of his soulmate left a rather bitter taste in his mouth. He knew if Anastasia was here that she’d be laughing at these women. That she’d find this entire thing utterly ridiculous and think Dmitry was an imbecile for thinking he could ever pull this off.

Dmitry was ripped from his thoughts when the woman’s hands slid away from his knees and she stood up straight.

“I’m not really an actress.” She admitted with a shrug.

“ _ _No__!” Vlad gasped in an overly dramatic manner that could rival the theatrics of three women before them.

Standing up, Dmitry gently, well he __attempted__  to do it gently with how frustrated he was, steered the woman toward where her jacket was and gestured toward the door. “Thank you ladies. We’ll let you know.” He curtly dismissed them.

“What you’re doing is against the law!” One of the girls exclaimed quickly and scowled at Dmitry.

“For this we lost our best hours on the street!” The other spoke up, all three women glaring at Dmitry.

“If you weren’t so handsome, Dmitry, I’d report you!”

“Out, __out__!” Dmitry finally snapped and threw his hands up, gesturing toward the door as the women hurried out.

This was the stupidest idea. Beyond stupid, even. Dmitry could feel his temper bubbling up while standing at the doorway, the women running out onto the street. There was no way that they would be able to pull this off. No one was going to live up to the unreachable expectations Dmitry held for Anastasia. He had no idea why he even agreed to this elaborate idea of Vlad’s. It wasn’t going to work.

Dmitry heaved a heavy sigh and he shook his head, walking away from the door to the couch that had been left behind by the royal family who once owned the palace. He picked up his bag that was resting on the floor and took our the music box that was hidden away in there. He examined it once more as he dropped down onto the couch.

“Well, we tried, my friend. Anastasias don’t grow on trees, you know?” Vlad hummed, glancing down at the notes he had attempted to scribble down during the auditions that all essentially said the same thing: __awful__.

“Giving up already? This was your idea after all. Shall we go to Siberia next to find ourselves an Anastasia?” Dmitry snarked, grunting as he attempted to open the lid of the music box that had yet to budge.

“Have you ever __been__  to Siberia?” Vlad asked in a flat tone.

“No. I’ve never been anywhere but here.” He replied absently, looking at the music box more closely to try to see how to get the contraption open.

Vlad scoffed at that and stood from his seat, dropping his clipboard on a nearby table. “The day I took up with you,” he didn’t finish his thought instead just grunting and shaking his head.

“It was me or a Bolshevik firing squad.” Dmitry mused with a smirk, glancing up from the music box finally.

Vlad paused at that and smiled finally. “You saved my life.” His tone was grateful.

He felt like finally, after the years that had passed since Dmitry saving his life he could finally give back to him. He could save __Dmitry’s__  life by getting them out of Russia.

“A rash act of kindness, completely out of character!” Dmitry exclaimed as he laughed with his friend, his attention being drawn back to the music box.

His eyebrows furrowed, fingers curled around the lid of the music box. He couldn’t get the damn thing open and it was going to make him go crazy. He was once again lost in attempting to get the stupid thing open that he startled a bit once Vlad spoke up.

“Stop fiddling with that thing before you break it, it’s a fake.”

“I can’t get it open, besides, how would __you__  know that it’s a fake?” Dmitry rolled his eyes at his friend’s slight theatrics and reclined back onto the couch as he twisted the music box in his hand to get a look at each side of it as if to spot something he had missed.

“No one spots a fake like Count Vladimir Popov, the biggest fake of them all.” The last part he muttered mostly to himself, Dmitry too caught up in his examination of the music box to even bother replying.

The sudden noise of a loud knock on the front door of the palace had both men freezing in their spot. Their heads turned sharply in the direction of the front door before they sprung into action. Dmitry hurriedly lept to his feet and rushed behind the couch, stuffing the music box back in his bag and hunching down so he was hidden from view.

“I __knew__  it! Those women ratted on us!” Dmitry hissed out angrily.

“At least they’ll feed us in jail!” Vlad exclaimed in an almost excited manner as he ran across the room to find a hiding spot on the other side.

The sound of the harsh wind became heavily apparent in the now silent palace as the door creaked open. Dmitry could feel his heart thudding rapidly in his chest. He had never gotten __this__  close to being caught before. There was a time or two prior were it was a close call, but the thought of actually being face to face with the Bolshevik officers and their guns had Dmitry quaking slightly. His shoulders eased down from their tense position and he was instead filled with confusion when a young women hurriedly rushed into the room, looking frazzled. She glanced around, looking hesitant as she stepped further into the room only to yelp in surprise when her gaze landed on Vlad’s half hidden figure in the corner of the room.

“I’m looking for someone called Dmitry?” She stated, although it came out as more of a question instead.

“I’m Dmitry,” Dmitry sighed, standing to his full towering height from behind the couch and rolled his eyes. To think, some __girl__  had caused such a reaction from the pair.

“What do you want?” He asked, tone laced with annoyance.

“I need exit papers and I was told you’re the only one who could help me.” The strawberry blonde haired woman insisted and started to approach Dmitry only for him to scoff, brushing his hand out in a dismissive manner.

He headed out from behind the couch toward a chair not too far from the couch put space between them, turning a cold shoulder to her. “Exit papers are rather expensive.”

“I’ve saved a little money!”

“The __right__  papers cost a lot.”

Dmitry could tell the women was not only desperate, but was quickly growing frustrated with him. Her wide, blue doe eyes were insistent and her brow was beginning to furrow as she refused to back down each time he simply disregarded her.

“I’m a hard worker!” She asserted, “you’ll get your money!”

Dmitry rolled his eyes and sat down, the woman hurriedly dropping down onto her knees to be at his level with her hands locked together against her chest in a sort of begging position. It was obvious that the girl wasn’t going to give up and was desperate for the help. His dark eyes swept over her and paused when he saw the vibrant red string attached to her pinky that seemed to tangle around her feet then disappear. That was strange. He’d never been able to __not__ see where a string led before. Still, the heavy feeling he had become accustom to started to tighten in his chest when he realized this girl had a soulmate and likely wanted out of here __with them__.

“What do you even do?” Dmitry finally replied, his tone more so bitter now.

“I’m a street sweeper!” Her face was earnest and it immediately dropped when Dmitry __and__  Vlad began to laugh.

“A __street sweeper__!” He exclaimed sarcastically, throwing his arms out as Vlad continued to laugh heartily.

“In Odessa I washed dishes!” She insisted and quickly stood to look briefly at Vlad as if to convince him as well then back at Dmitry once more. “And before that I worked at the hospital in Perm!”

Dmitry shook his head, trying, and failing, to keep his annoyance with this woman at bay. “You’re a long way from here.”

“I know. I walked it.”

Dmitry and Vlad went quiet, exchanging a quick look of shock. She __walked__  all that way to St. Petersburg?

“Wait, you __walked__  here all the from Perm?” Dmitry asked, giving her a look of utter disbelief.

She merely shrugged her shoulders, “I had no choice.”

Leaning forward in his seat, Dmitry cocked an eyebrow at the young woman. “Who are you running from?”

No one would walk that far, said they __had to__ , if they weren’t running from someone. This girl seemed to be too much trouble for her own good, and that was saying something coming from Dmitry of all people. There had to be something wrong in her life that caused her to run so far away from home. (Dmitry assumed that was her home at lest if she was that desperate to get away.)

The young woman seemed to hesitate, her hands wringing together nervously. “More like running __to__  someone.”

Dmitry scoffed, the bitterness blooming in his chest once more. Of course. She was probably looking for her __soulmate__ , the one she was lucky enough to even have in the first place.

“I don’t know who they are, __but__  they’re waiting for me in Paris!” She continued on when she saw the mixture of irritation and skepticism on Dmitry’s face.

“You don’t need papers!” He laughed, “there’s a canal out there, jump in and start swimming! You’ll be in Paris before you know it!” He erupted into a fit of laughter, Vlad joining him.

“She’s crazy!” He turned his comment to Vlad with a cackle and shook his head, the older man laughing and dropping down into his own chair on the other side of the room.

“I’m __not__  crazy! Why are you so unkind?” She asked stubbornly.

Dmitry rolled his eyes, Vlad jumping in before another snarky remark could come from the man.

“We were hoping you would be someone else.”

“Who?”

“Someone who might not even exist.” Vlad sighed.

The young woman paused, looking around the room as if she was finally fully taking it in.

“I’ve been in this room before!” She gasped, holding a hand to her chest. “There was a play, everyone was beautifully dressed.” Her voice took on a rather moony tone, blue eyes flittering rapidly around the room in wonder.

“This was the private theatre of Count Yusupov.” Vlad informed her, seemingly caught in an old memory himself.

“People were polite, and kind.” She remarked absently; Dmitry huffed a bit at what seemed to be a jab at him.

He wasn’t sure where the girl was going with this. It was an odd thing to witness, that’s for sure. Exchanging a quick bewildered look with Vlad Dmitry was trying his best to convey to his friend that they should just boot the girl out onto the street as soon as possible. He quickly sighed and rolled his eyes at the lost look on the face of the small woman.

“She’s going to faint on us! Just look at her, she’s about to topple over any second now.” He groaned, not having the time nor the patience to deal with this.

Vlad hurriedly stood and grabbed his chair, bringing it over to the woman. “When did you eat last?” He reprimanded like you would a child, coaxing her into sitting down.

The woman continued on, all but ignoring Vlad’s scolding words, “afterwards we danced! There was champagne and I stole a sip!” She gasped out giddily, patting Vlad’s arm like he somehow shared this bizarre experience with her.

Vlad pulled back and gestured at Dmitry, “where are your manners, Dmitry? Go get her some water and a piece of that cheese.”

Dmitry resisted the urge to all but growl in pure frustration. This girl was taking up far too much time and energy and Vlad was just going to let her do it?

“This isn’t a soup kitchen, Vlad.” The younger man snapped and simply glared when Vlad gave him an exasperated look and pointed toward the kitchen.

He headed out of the ballroom to go into the kitchen where they had a limited amount of food and water. He could absently hear the girl and Vlad still talking, unable to make out what they were saying. Filling up a cup of water and grabbing a piece of cheese Dmitry simultaneously muttered under his breath about the stubborn street sweeper.

He heaved a sigh and headed back into the ballroom seeing Vlad hunched down beside the girl. Vlad rose to his feet as Dmitry walked over to her and held out the piece of cheese and cup of water for her to take.

“Thank you.” She said softly, taking both from him with a little nod.

“Don’t be so quick about this one.” Vlad muttered low enough so only Dmitry could hear.

Dmitry paused, unsure at first what that would mean until it clicked. A bewildered look took over his face and he glanced back at Vlad.

“ _ _Her__?” He asked, merely getting a nod in response. “Have you gone crazy too?” He hissed out.

Vlad shushed the man and gestured at the girl who was finishing drinking the glass of water. “What’s your name, dear?”

There was a long pause until she spoke up, “I don’t know.”

A laugh of disbelief immediately was the response from both men.

“You __don’t know__?” Vlad asked, still chuckling a bit.

“They gave me a name at the hospital; Anya.” The woman— _ _Anya__  claimed. “They told me I had amnesia.”

Dmitry cocked an eyebrow at that and exchanged a look with Vlad, moving to take a seat once more. This would be an interesting tale to hear then. The poor girl didn’t even remember her own name. He doubted she’d even know anything about her past.

__That__ had Dmitry’s mind instantly working, and with one look at Vlad he knew the man had the same idea.   

“Tell us what you do know then.” Vlad stated, sitting down as well, stealing a glance at Dmitry who had a thoughtful look on his face.

Anya took a shaky breath and looked down at her hands, fingers twisting together in a nervous fashion. “They told me that I was found by the side of a road all alone late at night. There were tracks all around in the dirt going in different directions, but there was no trace of anyone else being there. I was cold, hungry, and hurt. I don’t remember what had happened to me, but they said I had been shot.”

That had Dmitry pausing as he felt a wave of sympathy appear in him for the girl. It couldn’t have been easy to wake up all alone to not only be hurt, having been __shot__  to be more specific, but to also not remember a thing of your past.

“They took me to the hospital and treated me for my injuries. It was all so __terrifying__  to be alone, hurt, and scared without knowing anything that happened to you. The nurses were constantly whispering about me and finally decided upon calling me Anya so I could have some sort of name to go by. Once I was better they gave me a uniform and told me I could work at the hospital to make some sort of living. I think they felt sorry for me.” Anya said in a bitter tone, “who wouldn’t? I was the girl with no name or no memories.”

“That must have been hard.” Vlad said sympathetically, “do you remember anything else?”

“I kept dreaming about someone and __Paris__ ,” she said in that dreamy tone, the light brightening in her eyes. “I just knew that I had to get there because someone was waiting for me! I know that it means something and that whatever it takes I need to get to Paris so that I can find them. They’ve been waiting for so long now.” She insisted, pausing as she seemed to close in on herself. “Sometimes the dreams aren’t so nice. I can remember screaming and these flashes of fire. Those are the dreams that I hate the most. I can’t ever sleep after them.”

A quiet settled over the three. Vlad and Dmitry looked at one another, exchanging a look that seemed to say the same thing.

“Maybe we can help you after all, __Anya__ ,” Dmitry said upon standing and gesturing for the girl to stand as well.

Vlad approached her on her other side and Anya glanced between the pair in mild confusion. “You can?”

“We can. We just so happen to be going to Paris ourselves.” Dmitry grinned and Vlad gestured for her to follow him.

“You can stay with us, dear. Don’t worry. I’ll show you were you can sleep for the night, you look exhausted.”

Anya gasped and seemed to be filled with pure joy. “Thank you __so much__! Really, thank you! I don’t know how I could ever repay you two for taking me with you! I can give you all my earnings from sweeping the street and help cook and I can—” She babbled on until Dmitry sharply cut her off.

“Yes, yes. That’s great, but don’t worry. We’ll tell you all about how you’ll help us tomorrow after getting some rest. Don’t you worry about that.”

Anya nodded and let Vlad direct her to where she would be sleeping, offering Dmitry a little wave and then she was out of sight.

The man paused in the hallway and finally let himself believe that this might actually work. If they could pull this off? They’d be out of Russia __and__  rich. It really would be the absolute con of the century.


	4. 004

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it’s been a minute! Sorry about that, I’ve been without wifi for a few weeks now and had a heavy bout of feeling rather uninspired. I apologize for the long wait and hope this chapter was worth said crazy long wait!  
> Thank you to the wonderful Lar for being my cheerleader and beta-ing this chapter for me. You’re a star and I adore you!

Dmitry had always been an early riser since a young age. It drove his father crazy. It didn’t matter the day, without fail Dmitry would be up and poking at his father’s cheek to awake him at six or so in the morning. If Nikolai was lucky then Dmitry would sleep until seven thirty and he could actually sleep in for once. That was about as late as he could manage to sleep in before Dmitry was up and inquiring about breakfast and the plans for the day.

Mornings were the most peaceful time of day for Dmitry. He would get up about six thirty and freshen up, as well as one could with a bucket of freezing cold water, then get dressed and debate on what to make for breakfast. Today was no different.

Well, there was _one_ thing that ended up being different.

After getting dressed for the day, Dmitry headed into the kitchen to make something for breakfast. Vlad didn’t tend to get up until seven or eight so Dmitry would usually make something that could be eaten cold or just cook for himself then leave what he could for Vlad to make his own breakfast. He had finally decided upon making a small portion of the porridge he and Vlad had saved up and a piece of stale bread. Bending down to grab the pot out of the cupboard, Dmitry was startled when he heard a feminine voice sound out.

“Good morning, Dmitry—” Anya began to say, abruptly cutting herself off when Dmitry’s head banged against the cupboard and he cursed loudly. “…are you alright?”

Standing up straight, pot in hand, Dmitry held his other hand against his temple that had unfortunately roughly knocked against the cupboard. “I’m perfectly fine, why do you ask?”

Anya bit back a laugh that was threatening to make its way out and shook her head, “No reason.” Though the amusement was plain on her face at the man’s hapless accident.

Dmitry’s dark eyes narrowed at the girl and she merely cocked an eyebrow at him as if to challenge him to address the incident so she could poke fun at him.

“...right, of course. Good morning, Anya.” He smiled tightly and sat the pot on the stove, pouring the grains into the pot followed by some water. “I suppose you would like some breakfast as well?”

“Only if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, because I’m going to let you starve instead.” Dmitry quipped and snorted.

Anya rolled her eyes and nudged past the man to grab the kettle she saw, “I don’t know why you feel the need to be so unkind, _especially_ when you’ve just woken up.”

“What can I say? I live to be a menace on society and everyone around me.” He retorted, stirring the contents of the pot as Anya moved about the kitchen as she pleased.

He heard a scoff come from the girl. It was a moment later she stood beside him, turning on another burner on the stove then sat the kettle upon it.

“What are you doing?” Dmitry finally asked after a moment of silence.

“Making tea. What does it _look_ like I’m doing?” Anya asked, looking at Dmitry as if he was, well, _stupid_.

“And you say that I’m the unkind one in the morning.”

“I’m only treating you as you’ve been treating _me_.” Anya smiled innocently, “It’s not that pleasant, now is it?”

Dmitry didn’t bother to respond, instead settling for a roll of his eyes and stirring the pot of porridge once more. His eyes were drawn to Anya’s hand when she reached back away from the handle of the kettle and lingered on the string tied to her pinky finger. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t see where the string led. It was like the string ran down, tangled up by her feet then just got lost. He hadn’t seen anything like it before, and he’d seen a lot of things when it came to people and their soulmate bonds.  

“What are you looking at?” Anya’s voice ripped Dmitry out of his train of thought.

He looked at her, blinking in surprise at being caught. “I..nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“You were staring very intently at my hand. I’m going to worry about it. Tell me.” She demanded stubbornly.

“Oh, look at that. Breakfast is ready!” Dmitry exclaimed and went to grab two bowls from the cupboard.

Anya stubbornly stared at Dmitry with her arms crossed for a few moments until it was clear he wouldn’t be budging. She groaned and all but stomped across the kitchen to get two cups for their tea.

He tried to ignore the seemingly lost red string tied there on her pinky and why it seemed to lead nowhere, instead busying himself with grabbing two bowls for their breakfast. The silence was broken by the loud screech of the kettle to signal that their water was now boiled. Anya grabbed it and poured the water into the two cups that now had tea bags resting in them.

The air between them was thick and uneasy, the awkward atmosphere starting to get a bit much for Dmitry. He awkwardly cleared his throat and slid the bowl across the counter to Anya.

“There you go. Eat up. We have a lot to go over today.”

Anya raised a brow at that, handing him a cup of tea in return. “Like what?”

“You’ll find out, don’t worry.” He sipped the tea, trying to ignore the annoyance that spiked in him at how good the tea tasted. He had never managed to make his own brew taste this good before.

“You’re very cryptic, aren’t you?” She deadpanned, dipping a spoon into the porridge.

Dmitry simply smirked at that, “Guess you’ll have to find that out as well.”

Anya’s groan was loud enough that it traveled down the hall, followed promptly by Dmitry’s delighted cackle.

*******

A little while after Vlad had woken up and found Dmitry and Anya eating breakfast in a tense silence, Anya had made her way to go work a shift sweeping the street. That gave Dmitry and Vlad enough time to go over the plan to try to ‘help’ Anya while really helping themselves most of all.

“Well, first of all, she _does_ look like what Anastasia could have grown up to look like.” Vlad flipped through a book they had managed to find prior to their search for an Anastasia on the Romanov family history.

Dmitry simply huffed, having no real dignified response to that.

Anya _was_ beautiful, as much as she was annoying—which was _very_. Dmitry couldn’t exactly argue that. There was a quiet pang of guilt that he felt in the pit of his stomach at the thought. He absently rubbed at his left hand and brushed his thumb over his pinky, immediately ceasing the motion when he realized what he was doing.

Vlad noticed and gave him a sympathetic look.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Dmitry snapped, shoulders slumping as he took a slow breath in. “Sorry. Let’s just move on.”

“Of course.” Vlad nodded, quickly moving on, “Well, she doesn’t remember anything from her past so we can give her something to remember. She remembers Paris and the Dowager Empress lives there, it’ll work. We can make a connection there somehow. It shouldn’t take much convincing on our end. A life she wants to remember and we get rich while also getting out of this god forsaken place? It’s a win, win!”

Dmitry finally managed a nod. Vlad wasn’t wrong. Besides, it got them out of Russia and away from the horrible regime they were having to live under.

“What do you think?” Vlad spoke up once more, “Think she’ll buy it?”

“I think we better start studying up on the Romanovs so we can teach that stubborn street sweeper how to be a Grand Duchess.”

*******

“You’re telling me that you think I’m the lost Grand Duchess Anastasia? Are you sure?” Anya asked, eyeing the men skeptically.

“Yes! This is how you’ll help us while we help you, Anya,” Vlad smiled easily, leading the girl into the ballroom that now had a chalkboard with the Romanov family tree on it that Vlad and Dmitry had painstakingly taken time to write out while Anya was at work.

As soon as they heard the door of the palace ease open and Anya’s voice sound out the men had quickly gone to greet her, informing her they had plenty to talk about. They told her all about the rumors of the Grand Duchess possibly still being alive and how they thought, with the knowledge of her story, that she could be her. Of course, Anya was immediately doubting all of it. This was going to take a bit a more coaxing to get her to believe them.

“We’re going to help you first by teaching you all about your family again and we’re sure that it’ll come to you in no time. And then you help us get out of Russia!” Vlad handed Dmitry the book of the Romanovs once they came to a stop in the room.

“Are you ready to become the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova?” Dmitry asked her with an overly fake grin.

“I’m ready to find out who I am, but I’m not going to lie to do it.” Anya insisted, obviously still not convinced and was trying to move around Dmitry to sit down.

Blocking her pathway quickly, Dmitry held out his hands to try to appease her. “It won’t be a lie! We’re going to help you remember the truth!” He attempted to lead her over back to where Vlad was standing.

The words felt like acid in his mouth, making him want to puke within seconds. The fact he was even doing this, doing such a thing to his soulmate’s memory, was something he was entirely ashamed of. It was getting easier and easier to lie and pretend like the heavy feeling wasn’t suffocating him each time he was reminded that he was using the memory of Nastya for his own gain.

“I wish I had your confidence.” She said in a snippy tone, turning back to glare at Dmitry.

“If the Dowager Empress recognizes you as her granddaughter then Vlad and I will get a _small_ reward for our efforts and we’ll all live happily ever after!” He exclaimed, flashing her a falsely reassuring grin.

“And if she calls me an _impostor_?” Anya asked, glancing from Dmitry to Vlad accusingly.

Dmitry quickly made a cutting action over his throat with his hand before Vlad could speak up and say something to make it worse. “Then it’ll all be an _honest_ mistake. Either way, it gets you to Paris and gets us out of Russia. Everyone wins.”

Anya went quiet at that, hesitating for a few moments, “…How do you become the person you’ve forgotten you ever were?” She asked in a meek tone.

Vlad quickly gestured at Dmitry who brought a chair forward and sat it behind the girl so that she could sit down. She reluctantly sat down and looked between the two men who kneeled on either side of where she sat.

“Just close your eyes, take a breath, and imagine another time.” Vlad began, waiting until she huffed and reluctantly shut her eyes before going on. “Try to think of a time when you would’ve just been a child.”

Dmitry eased open the book and flipped quickly to the page that had the palace that Anastasia had been born in, pausing upon a picture of the girl. He cracked a small smile when he recalled she had worn a dress similar to the one in the photo at the parade he had met her at.

He was suddenly startled out of his thoughts when Vlad gestured to the photo and was going on talking to Anya about how Anastasia grew up.

“You would go horseback riding and you started to do so about age three.”

“Horseback riding at age three? Really?” Anya asked skeptically, but the tone was filled with a sort of wonder.

“You did. The horse’s name was Romeo.” Dmitry remarked, pointing to a photo of the horse in the book.

“You would constantly throw fits and temper tantrums that would even intimidate and drive the cook crazy. You didn’t behave until your father would give you just _one_ look and that would make you instantly behave.” Vlad snorted.

A laugh escaped Dmitry as well, elbowing Anya lightly, “Charming child.”

Slowly turning her head to look at Dmitry, she glared at the man who didn’t even react. Instead, he flipped the page of the book and continued on. They were throwing a lot of information at the girl at once and it was obvious she was doing her best to take it all in and remember it, but was seeming to struggle a bit.

“Can you picture it?” Vlad asked, not waiting for an answer before helping Anya to her feet, “Good! Now it’s time to work on your posture.”

“My posture?” She asked in confusion.

“Yes! We need to see if you can carry yourself like a royal.” Vlad stated, shooting a glare in Dmitry’s direction at his snort.

“Just like this, dear, watch me.” He stated and started to walk across the room, holding himself in a regal position with his arms outstretched.

Anya watched for a moment and started to attempt to copy him, it not lasting very long before she started to all put flap her arms up and down as she moved. Dmitry sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This is going to be a long night.”

Vlad quickly looked over and rolled his eyes, mockingly flapping his arms in the same manner as Anya. The girl glared and all but stomped her way over to them when she saw the pair of men teasing and making fun of her.

“You’re the ones who don’t stand straight!” She snapped.

“It’s all his years of bowing and kowtowing in court!” Dmitry said in a taunting tone, mockingly bowing before Vlad.

“Bowing is a sign of respect!” Vlad retorted defensively.

Dmitry shrugged, merely amused by it all, “I bowed to someone once.”

“There! You admit it!” He laughed giddily, pointing at him accusingly.

The flash of the memory of Nastya ran through Dmitry’s mind, seeing the vibrant string connecting them in his mind’s eye as if it was yesterday.

“I was a boy, I didn’t know any better!” He snapped harshly, his anger spiking at the longing ache in his chest that made a reappearance.

“Oh, no, no! Don’t act like—”

“—that was the first and last time,” Dmitry stopped in the midst of his argument with Vlad to see Anya gracefully pick up her skirt and curtsy, hand held to her chest, “…where did you learn that?”

“I didn’t teach her. She’s a natural!” Vlad exclaimed proudly like he was some sort of genius when really he had nothing to do with it at all.

Anya looked rather proud of herself as Vlad ushered her over to sit down at the table on the other side of the room, handing her a book on all things regarding the Romanovs. Dmitry felt a little less like he was about lose his mind, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath. Anya was more prone to glaring at him and snapping than actually learning any of this stuff.

“Who was your great-grandmother?” Vlad asked while moving across the room to discard his jacket, flipping through the book in his hand.

“Queen Victoria!” Anya hurriedly replied.

“Great-great-grandmother?”

“Uh,” Anya was flipping through the book looking rather frazzled, “Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld!”

Vlad continued to shoot off questions, not giving Anya a chance to stop or slow down, “Your best friend is?”

“My little brother, Alexei!”

“Wrong! Your best friend is—” Dmitry interrupted, swiftly being cut off by Anya.

“I know who my best friend is!”

Dmitry raised an eyebrow and lowered the book in his hands, glancing at Vlad, “What a temper.”

“I don’t like being contradicted,” she huffed, stomping over and shoving the book roughly against his chest.

He quickly stood and glared down at the small woman, “That makes two of us!”

“Continuing on!” Vlad quickly intervened before the two could literally tear into one another.

“No! I’ve _had_ it! I hate you both!” Anya exclaimed, throwing her arms up and stomping her foot like a two year old would do. “I’m hungry, I’m _frightened_ , and I’m tired! We’ve been doing this _all_ day without stop and I _hate_ it! My head hurts and I just want to go to bed! I still have no idea who I am and I hate everything! I hate you two especially!”

Vlad held his hand out, stopping Dmitry before the man could snap back in response about he too was hungry, tired, and sick of dealing with a stubborn brat.

“Anya, darling,” Vlad said in the most soothing tone he could muster while also being frustrated, taking both of Anya’s hands into his own. “We’re _all_ tired and hungry, but you’re being incredibly strong! We’ll be done soon, once we get this all nailed down! You’re so much stronger than you realize, dear, truly.”

Dmitry had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“Now, wipe your eyes and blow your nose then we’ll get back to it!” Vlad exclaimed, handing her his handkerchief.

Anya sniffled and took the handkerchief with a bit of a smile starting to form on her face and wiped at her eyes. Dmitry turned and walked toward the blackboard they had carefully written out the Romanov family tree on the backside, with some notes they had written down for Anya to try to continue to remember on the front side currently. He impatiently tapped his foot and stood beside the blackboard, waiting for Vlad.

“Are you okay now?” Vlad asked.

“Yes, thank you.” Anya said with a small smile, handing Vlad back the handkerchief.

“Excellent!” He hurried over and took hold of the side of the blackboard. “Now, we’ll go over some of your extended relatives and how to remember them all. Ready?”

“Ready!” Anya replied with a determined nod.

Vlad quickly spun the blackboard and it promptly nailed Dmitry in the face, slicing a deep gash across his nose.

“Fuck!” Dmitry staggered back and held a hand to his face.

“Oh! Dmitry, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize you were so close to the damn thing!” Vlad hurried over, wincing when he saw the blood dripping through the cracks of Dmitry’s fingers.

“I’ll go get something to clean it up!” Anya stated, rushing off before Dmitry could protest.

“Come on, my boy. Sit down and tilt your head back…or is that what you do for a bloody nose? Not a cut nose? No matter, just sit down.”

Dmitry groaned and let Vlad ease him down onto the floor, sitting against the wall. His shirt was probably ruined now from the blood that dripped onto it from his cut and he was probably going to have a killer headache for the rest of the night. He finally simply rest his head back against the wall, eyes watering, but he wouldn’t admit to it. Instead, he simply shut his eyes and tried to will away the sharp ache that was blooming across his face.

“I’m back. Can you move your hand Dmitry?” Anya’s voice sounded out as he felt the fabric of her skirt brush against his legs as she eased down beside him.

He kept his eyes shut and dropped his hand down by his side.

“This is going to hurt, so just…brace yourself.” Anya warned and dipped part of washcloth into the glass of vodka she brought with her then raised it to Dmitry’s face.

“Fuck!” He hissed and his eyes shot open the moment she started to clean the cut.

“I told you it would hurt. Hush, just grit your teeth and it’ll only be a moment longer.”

He grumbled under his breath and Anya rolled her eyes, continuing to clean the man’s cut. She finally stopped and cleaned the blood off his face and hand.

“There. Be careful, you don’t want to split it back open. You’re probably going to bruise as well.” Anya warned.

“Great. It’ll add to my dashing good looks and stunning charm.” He quipped sarcastically.

Anya giggled a bit and rolled her eyes in an almost fond like manner, “If that helps you feel better, then sure.”

Vlad watched the interaction carefully then frowned, finally speaking up, “Why don’t we pick this back up tomorrow?”

“ _Finally_ , I’m starving.” Anya huffed and stood up, holding the glass and washcloth she brought in hand. “Can I get you anything, Dmitry?”

Dmitry was taken off guard by that and hesitated before shaking his head, “No, thank you. I’m just…going to go to bed and sleep off this headache. Goodnight.”

Anya nodded and smiled softly, “Goodnight, Dmitry,” then she headed out of the ballroom to the kitchen.

“Dmitry…” Vlad began to say.

“Don’t. Just…don’t.” Dmitry got to his feet and half-heartedly clapped Vlad on the shoulder, walking toward his bedroom.

That night, Dmitry fell asleep to the feeling of soft hands on his face and a vision of bright blue eyes full of concern.

 


	5. 005

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but I wanted to get an update out before I left next week on my trip! I'm going to NYC for my birthday and will be a busy little bee so I won't have much time for writing! I hope you all enjoy this quick lil update and as always, let me know what you thought!  
> Thank you to Lar for beta-ing this chapter and being my cheerleader as always. Love you!

It wasn’t the faint, dull ache spreading across the bridge of his nose that awoke Dmitry, no. It was Vlad’s booming laugh sounding out that startled him awake. He was disoriented and had to take a moment to gather his wits. Easing himself up into a sitting position, Dmitry groaned and leaned his neck from side to side until he heard the ‘pop’ and the tension ease from his joints. He slowly stood from his makeshift bed on the floor of the room, made mostly of newspaper and some cushion stuffing from left behind furniture in the palace, and made his way to the bathroom to clean up as well as he could.

Staring into the broken shards of the mirror in the old bathroom, Dmitry winced at the faint purple bruise that had blossomed overnight across his nose. He had expected as much, but that didn’t mean it was any less annoying to take in.

Once Dmitry had washed up and dressed, he headed to the kitchen to find Anya and Vlad talking over their half eaten breakfast.

“Look at you, Sleeping Beauty! Thank you for finally joining us.” Vlad remarked with a smirk when he spotted Dmitry entering the room.

“Ha. Hilarious. What time is it?”

“A little past eight thirty, I believe.” Anya hummed, sipping her tea. “That hit to your head really did you in. Are all three of your brain cells still there?”

Dmitry glared harshly at the girl while Vlad cracked up, slapping his hand against Dmitry’s shoulder.

“Oh, she got you good, my boy!” He laughed harder, wiping a tear from underneath his eye. “Now, eat up! We have to finish our, uh, history lesson with Anya here! _And_ she needs to learn to dance!”

“ _Dance_?!” Dmitry and Anya both exclaimed, looking utterly bewildered.

“You both are so dramatic, honestly. Stop sulking and eat, both of you.” Vlad rolled his eyes, sliding Dmitry a bowl of mostly cold porridge.

Dmitry grumbled under his breath and picked a spoon, eating the porridge, knowing he’d regret it if he didn’t.

Once the trio all finished eating and cleaned up the minimal mess they had made, no thanks to Vlad with his tendency to destroy a kitchen when attempting to cook, they all headed back into the ballroom. Dmitry made sure to stay clear of the blackboard as Vlad and him went over the family tree for Anya.

“Now, your distant cousin, Vanya, loved his vodka.” Vlad stated, circling his name with chalk on the board.

“Got it?” Dmitry went on, ignoring Anya when she flipped through her Romanov history book and had responded with a ‘no!’.

“The Duke of Oldenburg was short!” Vlad continued marking on the board.

It seemed like there were so many ties from Anastasia to different family members that they had to drill into Anya to make her somewhat believable as the Grand Duchess Anastasia. Dmitry still felt that gnawing guilt at the back of his mind, almost as if Nastya was standing behind his shoulder, disapprovingly. There were moments where he could feel a sharper sense of guilt and it would practically take the wind out of him.

Now seemed to be one of those times.

His chest ached and the dull sting along the side of his pinky flared up as if to remind him that he was doing this to his soulmate. He knew he didn’t deserve Anastasia in the first place. He was a commoner after all, a street rat. There was no place for him in her life, even if she had lived. But now? He especially didn’t deserve her.

“Dmitry?” Vlad’s voice broke the young man from his thoughts, “If you could stop daydreaming, we’re going to try dancing now.”

Dmitry blinked a few times and cleared his throat, looking entirely too uncomfortable. He hadn’t ever danced before, not properly. This was going to be a challenge.

Vlad pushed the pair together, Dmitry immediately looking over the small girl’s shoulder at Vlad in a panicked manner. He rested his hand on Anya’s lower back as Vlad took one of Anya’s hands to rest on Dmitry’s shoulder then the other to rest in his hand.

“Alright and one, two, three, one, two, three,” Vlad hummed, counting the steps for the pair to follow.

As expected, Dmitry was utterly floundering. He took a jerky step forward and then back, his movements unsure and awkward as he hunched down into himself. He looked utterly ridiculous and felt so. Vlad continued to count and watch, refraining from cringing at the sight before him. Anya was following in step with Dmitry as best as she could with his shaky moments, all until he took an awkward step and his foot stepped onto hers.

" _Ow_!” She all but screeched and jerked her foot back, coming to a stop in the dance—if you could even really call it that.

Dmitry cringed and the pair looked to Vlad who sighed in an exasperated manner, pitching the bridge of his nose, “Just…just, go on. Try again, this time _without_ stepping on her foot, Dmitry.”

Dmitry cringed and nodded quickly, looking back down at Anya who leveled him with an irritated gaze in response.

“And one, two, three, one, two, three,” Vlad began counting once more.

Dmitry continued with a unstable start once more, but was determined to get better. He was starting to get a hang on the steps, not taking as awkwardly or uncertain steps, until Anya pulled her leg back and her foot roughly collided with his shin.

“ _Hey_!” Dmitry yelled, jolting away as pain bloomed over his shinbone.

“Anya!” Vlad exclaimed, having reached the peak of his tolerance for the couple, “I swear to God, you two need to get it together. Behave and follow me!”

Vlad stepped up behind Anya, setting a hand on her arm that had her hand resting on Dmitry’s shoulder then the other wrapped around the wrist of the hand holding Dmitry’s. The man seemed to be bound and determined to get the two to behave and actually attempt to learn to dance in a somewhat timely manner. He stepped along with them and counted them off, not stepping back until Dmitry and Anya were actually moving in a confident manner.

“Ah, there we go! See, she’s a natural! Dmitry, you need work.” Vlad remarked, watching them with a proud grin on his face.

Dmitry huffed and rolled his eyes, deciding to attempt to prove Vlad wrong. He started to twirl around the ballroom with Anya, moving with a certain kind of ease now that he had finally gotten the hang of the rhythm. Picking Anya up into his arms, he twirled her in a circle as she let out a delighted squeal. He laughed and set her down back onto her feet, a fond grin starting to light up his face.

They slowed to a stop and Dmitry couldn’t help but take in the pure happiness on Anya’s face. His heart was racing and he wasn’t sure if it was from the dancing or if it was from the way Anya was beaming up at him. The smiles slowly slid off both their faces as a sort of wonder overtook instead.

For the first time in a very long time, Dmitry felt the tight ache in his chest actually loosen staring down at Anya.

“That was wonderful!” Vlad exclaimed loudly, interrupting to pull Anya away, resting his hands on her shoulders, “Très bien, mademoiselle, très bien!” He remarked in French with a bright grin to the girl.

“Merci, monsieur, merci!” Anya exclaimed in return with a grin.

Vlad paused, looking delighted, albeit confused. “Parlez-vous Français?”

“Un peu.” Anya simply shrugged then paused as if she too was confused as to how that came out of her so instinctively.

Dmitry and Vlad looked at each other in confusion, speechless for a moment, as Anya moved to sit down in the chair across the room, seemingly moving in a dreamy manner.

“She’s charming!” Vlad finally laughed when he shook himself from his stupefied trance.

“What were you telling her?” Dmitry asked, frustrated that he didn’t understand the brief interaction.

“Oh, all the aristocrats spoke French, Dmitry. They thought that Russian was for common people—like you.” Vlad hummed, gathering up the books they had been using.

Dmitry immediately looked offended and scoffed, the comment stinging despite it being true. He didn’t needed to be reminded that he wasn’t ever going to be good enough for the girl the universe had decided was supposed to be his soulmate.

Vlad approached the girl and patted her cheek fondly, shaking her from her dreamy stupor, “You get the comfy bed tonight, Anya, the one made of mostly cushions! You earned it. Tomorrow, we’ll begin again!”

Dmitry interrupted with a roll of his eyes, “In _Russian_ next time.”

Vlad huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes as well, “For now, I’m going to go see if there’s anything I can barter for to get us some decent warmth in here tonight. I’ve heard it’s supposed to be chillier than normal.”

“I’ll do what I can to see if I can get us something other than beans or porridge for dinner. Maybe soup?” Dmitry suggested, hopeful for something better than they had been eating.

“See what you can do, my boy. What are you going to be doing today, Anya?”

Anya sighed and brushed her hair away from her face, “I have a shift today. I better get going if I don’t want to be late.” She stood and flashed the men a faint smile, “I’ll see you both tonight.”

They both called their goodbyes, Anya moving back to the room she was staying to get her coat and gloves. The men then heard the front door open and shut a few minutes later, leaving the two of them alone.

“So…” Vlad began and Dmitry swiftly cut him off.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“I have an idea, and I know I don’t want to hear it. I’m going to go now. Try and get us a blanket _without_ a hole in it this time, maybe?” Dmitry huffed and tugged on his coat, heading for the door.

“Your expectations are too high of me, Dmitry! I can’t promise anything!” Vlad called after him.

Dmitry rolled his eyes and huffed out a laugh, heading out the door and onto the streets of Petersburg.

 


	6. 006

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! NYC was beyond spectacular and I got the chance to see the show from second row and it was everything I could’ve dreamed of and more! Derek and Christy were the sweetest people ever! It definitely gave me plenty of muse for Dmitry, haha! I hope you all enjoy the update!  
> Trigger warning for a quick instance of violence. If that makes you uncomfortable the instance begins at ‘“Come on, Dmitry, let’s go. I don’t like these men.”’ and ends at ‘“Next time I won’t go so easy!”’ so you can skip over that part!

The air was as sharp and brisk as ever on the streets of Petersburg. Dmitry rubbed his gloved hands together, heading down the alley that lead to the hidden area the black market was held in. There was a bit more activity than normal, everyone seeming to be preparing for the cold nights ahead. His dark eyes scanned over the crowd and tables set up, trying to decide what the best course of action would be.

Suddenly, an arm slid through the crook of his, causing him to jerk away in surprise.

“You’re always so jumpy, Dmitry.” Marfa tutted, tugging back on his arm to link hers with his once more.

“And you have no sense of personal space, Marfa.” Dmitry rolled his eyes, tugging his arm away once more. “What are you doing here? You’re usually with the others loitering on the street corner at this time of day.”

Marfa huffed, pushing back a piece of her red hair that had fallen loose from her bun, “It’s getting colder and no one was stopping. The girls started to complain so we decided to take the rest of the night off. What are  _ you _ doing? You don’t usually come to the market this late in the evening.”

“I wanted something other than porridge or beans for dinner.” He remarked absently, starting to move along in the crowd to survey what was for trade on the tables.

“You did or the little  _ street sweeper _ wanted something different?” She asked snidely.

Dmitry rolled his eyes and paused, stopping to look back at Marfa, “What do you want, Marfa? To sit and make snarky comments or did you actually need something from me?”

She pouted and approached the man closer, laying her hands on his chest, “We miss you. Remember when you would help the girls and I, made sure we weren’t starving or freezing to death at night? You’d always check up on us! Ever since that little  _ brat _ you picked up became apart of your life you’ve disappeared completely! What’s so special about her? Why is it  _ her _ that you chose of all people for your impossible con? You can’t trust her like you could trust us.” She stated firmly, fingers curling up in the fabric of Dmitry’s coat.

Dmitry’s attention was drawn to the black string attached to Marfa’s pinky, how it fell to her feet in a tangled pile and just ended there. He hadn’t ever met the girl prior to losing her soulmate, but she had always gone on about how there was aspects of him that reminded her of her lost soulmate. Maybe it’s why she attached herself to him so heavily for survival for so long. Maybe he felt inclined to help her and the other girls because he knew the heavy feeling of losing your soulmate all too well.

Grabbing onto her wrists gently, Dmitry detached Marfa’s hands from his coat, “I can’t help you anymore, Marfa. I have to get out of here. This place isn’t where I’m meant to stay. You shouldn’t stay here either.”

Marfa scoffed and Dmitry felt a twinge of guilt in his chest when there were tears clearly starting to sting at the woman’s eyes, “You know you aren’t going to be getting out of here. They’re closing down borders right and left. You barely have enough money to feed yourself at night, let alone pay for  _ three _ train tickets to  _ Paris _ . Don’t fool yourself.” She all but spat out at him then stuck her nose up in the air, “I hope you have a  _ wonderful _ life, Dmitry. I’m sure I’ll see you around once that street sweeper gets tired of using you for food and shelter.”

With that, Marfa all but stomped off and Dmitry watched her. He sighed heavily and shook his head, turning back to the tables in the market to try to get something for dinner that night.

Dmitry had managed to trade for some jam, bread, and dried meat after some haggling and the loss of a few cans of beans. It wasn’t a feast, but it was different and he was glad for the change. He was sure that Anya and Vlad would be too.

Heading back down out of the alleyway, Dmitry was headed back to the palace when he saw a frantic Anya rushing out into the city square like she had just seen a ghost.

“Anya?” He called out, going out into the open view of the city square, frowning at the alarmed look on the girl’s face.

“Dmitry!” She exclaimed, hurrying over to him, clutching onto the sleeve of his coat as she looked around.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He frowned further, growing worried at how distressed she seemed to be.

“We can’t talk out here.” Anya told him, still looking around desperately.

“Okay, okay. Just breathe, come on. Follow me.”

Dmitry gestured for her to follow after him, taking a shortcut through a back alleyway that he had become accustomed to taking when trying to avoid any lingering eyes on his way to the Yusupov palace. It also led to a hidden area that Dmitry used to frequent with some of the men he would sell stolen items or con tourists out of their money with. It had been ages since he even interacted with the men, taking to just coming up with quick schemes with Vlad instead. It was a lot easier to trust one man whose life you saved rather than a group of men who were trying just as desperately as you were to make it out of this city alive.

The further they got from the city square, the more Anya seemed to calm, albeit still on edge.  

“Okay, we should be fine, away from any prying ears and we’re on the way back to the palace. What’s got you so frazzled?” Dmitry finally asked, trudging ahead of Anya through the back alleyways.

“They know where we’re living!” Anya exclaimed, hurrying alongside Dmitry, “His name is Gleb, he—”

Before Anya could finish her sentence, a loud laugh sounded out and the pair stopped. Dmitry felt dread fill his stomach at the sight of the men he used to work with all lounging around on a makeshift bench in the alleyway.

“Look who it is, boys! The Prince of Petersburg!” One of them, Sergei, exclaimed with a laugh.

“We thought you were in  _ Paris _ ,” Mihail remarked with a vicious grin.

“He missed his partners in crime!”

“Looks like he got himself a new girlfriend instead!” Another, Ivan, cackled.

Dmitry took a step back, hiding Anya from the view of the men and holding out his arm in front of her. There was an overwhelming urge to protect the smaller girl from the group of men that were looming in front of them.   

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Dmitry snapped, reaching back and grabbing Anya’s hand, “Let’s go, Anya.”

“I bet it’s Anastasia herself!” The group started to laugh as one of them mockingly bowed before the pair, “I bet he’s got you bowing for him like a regular little tsarina!”  

Dmitry started to tug her along to get them past the group of men so they could get back to the palace when Sergei stepped in front of him, planting a hand on his chest.

“Are you going to Paris,  _ mon chérie _ ?” Sergei mocked, staring over Dmitry’s shoulder at Anya.

Dmitry roughly shoved Sergei away and glared, feeling dread blossom in the pit of his stomach as the men started to circle them.

“Why don’t you have a drink with us, Dmitry?” Mihail grinned widely.

Anya tugged on Dmitry’s bicep to pull him away from the stare down he was currently having with Sergei.

“Come on, Dmitry, let’s go. I don’t like these men.” She turned, starting to walk off back the way they had came.

“What? Too good for us, sweetheart?” Mihail asked, his hands running down Anya’s arms before she shoved at him.

“If you don’t want her, Dmitry, I’ll take her!” Ivan grabbed Anya and tried to grab at her waist.

Dmitry was seeing red immediately, pure anger running through his system, “Leave her alone!” He yelled, shoving Sergei away and trying to make his way toward Anya.

The next few moments happened in a blur. Dmitry roughly shoved Mihail onto the makeshift bench, causing it to collapse and the man to go with it. Sergei managed to get a hook in and punched Dmitry harshly in the stomach. The man hunched over, momentarily winded, before stomping on Sergei’s foot and knocking him over. He was grabbed by another man and the scuffle continued as he tried to get toward Anya. Two of the men were back on Dmitry, a blow being delivered to his chest before they were suddenly off him. Anya seemed to be holding her own, scrambling to grab a pole they had been using to tend to their fire and swinging it around wildly to get the men out of their way when she saw them descending on Dmitry. She hit Ivan then Sergei, promptly sending them scrambling to the ground. Dmitry, winded but otherwise fine, roughly grabbed Mihail when he tried to grab Anya’s shoulders from behind and pushed him into an array of garbage cans.

Anya yelled and ran at the men, waving the pole around, sending them running in opposite directions. Dmitry just barely managed to avoid getting hit as he quickly scrambled out of the way, plopping down onto the now ruined bench in utter bewilderment and admiration of the girl before him.

“Next time I won’t go so easy!” She yelled after the group.

“Where did you learn that?!” Dmitry asked, unable to help himself from letting out a laugh, stupefied and astounded by it all, “You’re good.” He admitted, the amazement clear in his tone.

“Want to see what else I can do?” She asked, charging toward one of the men who was slumped on the ground, groaning from the pain.

“No, no!” Dmitry exclaimed, standing up quickly and grabbing her by her waist, swinging her around so the man had a moment to run away.

Setting her back on her feet, Anya then promptly walked backwards with the pole still in hand, “Come at me, I won’t hurt you!” She sounded all too excited to show off.

“I believe you,” Dmitry laughed a bit and held out his hands in a defensive manner.

He gestured for her to hand over the pole and jerked back a bit when she held it out before grabbing it from her.

“I didn’t walk halfway across Russia without taking care of myself.” Anya sighed, smoothing her hands over her rumpled skirt and sitting on the barely standing makeshift bench.

Dmitry huffed out a little laugh, moving to go poke around in the fire to see if there was any food they had left. He found a few potatoes among the flames and used one end of the pole to stab into one of the potatoes. It took a few tries before he managed to jerk it out of the fire. He grabbed it from the end of the pole, wincing and letting out a hiss as the hot food touched his bare skin.

“You had it easy?” Anya finally asked after a moment of silence, looking up when Dmitry approached her and handed her the potato.

“Not so easy.” He scoffed, sitting beside her once she took the food and started to hesitantly nibble on it. “My father was anarchist. He died in a labor camp for his convictions. My mother was already gone, I don’t really remember her.”

Anya looked up at the man in disbelief while attempting to break part of the baked potato to give to him, “Who raised you then?”

“No one. I raised myself.” He shrugged, taking the piece from her.

“That must have been awful lonely.” She remarked after a moment of silence, hesitating before she continued on, “..what about your soulmate?”

Dmitry bristled at that immediately, “What about her?”

“I mean, you didn’t...meet her yet? Or are you just…” Anya was fumbling over her words, seemingly nervous for once, “You’re supposed to have met them already, at least that’s what the nurses told me at the hospital. Usually by your twenties you’ve met them.”

Dmitry huffed and didn’t say anything, Anya shifting uncomfortably beside him. The silence grew tense between them, it finally being broken once more by Anya.

“I don’t remember him.”

“Who?”

“My soulmate. I don’t remember meeting him at least. I thought maybe that it’s him I’m trying to find in Paris, but I don’t think it is. I think it’s someone else, the Dowager Empress like you said, my grandmother. I just think I would’ve remembered him by now. It’s been so long.” She said quietly, staring down at the half eaten potato in her hands.

Dmitry’s gaze was drawn to her hands as well, taking in the way her string fell by her feet and disappeared. Is that why he couldn’t see her string? Because she couldn’t remember the soulmate she had? That made no sense. Even if she didn’t remember him she’d still have a visible string. There was no reason that he shouldn’t be able to see her string.

The quiet grew between them once more as they ate their small ration of food Dmitry found in the fire. He waited until Anya finished before shrugging the strap of his satchel back over his shoulder and standing

“Come on, come with me. I have something I want to show you.”

Anya looked up at him skeptically, “What is it?”

“Just come on. You’ll see.” He held out his hand for her and she hesitated before finally slipping her much smaller one into his grasp.

Leading her out of the alleyway, Dmitry took Anya through the streets of Petersburg until they stopped by the edge of a park. He smiled and climbed up onto the bench, standing on it and just surveying the old park.

“What are you doing, you big oaf?” Anya asked with a laugh.

“Come on!” He looked back at her, offering her hand and helping her up onto the bench beside him once she took it.

“What am I looking at?” She asked.

“St. Petersburg in its prime.” Dmitry told her with a grin lighting up his face, “Over there, you see that fence?” He glanced over and waited until she nodded before continuing, “When I was about twelve or so I stole a pear from a fruit stand and ran away from the man before he could catch me. I climbed that fence then fell and skinned my knee pretty bad. I couldn’t stop grinning though because I finally had fruit for the first time in  _ ages _ .”

Anya giggled and looked up at Dmitry fondly as the man rattled on about the city he grew up in.

“My father used to bring me here all the time.” He said wistfully, his smile growing a bit sadder, “He’d put me up on his shoulders and say: ‘Bet you can see all the way to Finland from up there, Dima!’”

“Dima?” Anya asked, a fond smile tugging at her pink lips.

“That’s what he used to call me.” The man’s smile dropped as he recalled all the times with his father and how he hadn’t known he wouldn’t have much time with him, “There’s not a day I don’t miss him.”

He eased himself back down off from standing on the bench, holding his hands out to help Anya down as well. The pair sat on the bench and Anya scooted closer to him so that their knees knocked together.

“So neither one of us has a family then.” Anya remarked softly after a moment of silence.

“You don’t know that,” He pointed at her and managed a small smile, “The answer is in  _ Paris _ .” He laughed, trying to cover up the moment of weakness he let slip through the cracks and appear.

Anya just looked sad at that and merely shrugged, standing up from the bench, “Can we go back now?”

“...sure.” Dmitry stood as well and started to walk quietly with her, speaking up once more, “Why don’t you tell me about your little dog?”

Anya lit up at that, “His name was Toby!” She suddenly went quiet and stopped walking, a sadness overtaking her, “I loved him so much.”

“Go on, don’t stop now.” 

“I’m not as strong as you think I am.” Anya snapped defensively and crossed her arms over her chest.

Dmitry felt the weight of the music box seem to grow heavier in his satchel and decided that Anya deserved a small show of kindness. This couldn’t be easy and maybe it was his guilt at tricking this poor girl, or maybe it was because he felt himself opening up to her like he hadn’t to anyone before, but she deserved this.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hand,” Dmitry prompted, digging through his bag until his fingers closed over the music box.

“Why?” Anya asked stubbornly.

“Just do it.” He laughed and rolled his eyes.

Anya scowled and finally shut her eyes, uncrossing her arms to hold out her hand. Dmitry pulled out the music box and gingerly set it in her grasp, holding his hand out to make sure she wouldn’t lose grip on it before stepping back. 

“There you go, you earned it. You’ve worked hard.” Dmitry smiled.

Anya opened her eyes and stared down at the music box, wonder overtaking her expression.

“It’s beautiful!” She exclaimed.

“...it’s broken.” Dmitry admitted sheepishly, “I can’t get it open.”

Anya went quiet, lifting up the music box to look at the bottom. She twisted a knob on the bottom and grasped at the lid, twisting it until a soft ‘click’ sounded out. She eased open the lid, the soft lullaby starting to play as the pair started to turn inside of the music box.

“How did you do that?” Dmitry asked, stunned it took the girl all but ten seconds to get the stupid thing open.

Anya stared at the music box in utter silence, blue eyes wide and looked glossed over as she stared at the figures dancing around in a circle.

“Anya?” He asked, gently reaching out and grasping her elbow, “Anya?”

The girl finally snapped out of it and shut the music box, staring up at Dmitry, “How soon do you think until we can go? They’re canceling trains right and left!”

Dmitry’s stomach sank at that. It had been a lot harder than he anticipated to get out of the country now that all the borders were starting to shut down. The papers were a lot more expensive than they had been in the past and they were barely making a dent in the amount of money they needed to get all three of them out.

“Here,” Anya pulled a small pouch out of her coat pocket and handed it over to Dmitry, “I worked an extra shift this week! It’s not much, but every little bit helps.”

“We’re not even close, Anya.” Dmitry reluctantly admitted. 

“What are you saying?” She asked with a frown.

Dmitry felt physically pained at the hope and trust that was draining out of Anya’s expression by the second, “I thought I could get us out before they closed the borders for good.”

“You were the only hope I had!” She snapped, the devastation clear on her face.

“There must be someone who can help you. I’m sorry.”

Dmitry can’t remember the last time he felt this much in pain. Maybe when Nastya was taken from him, but this? It seemed to hurt just as much. His chest was creating an actual  _ physical  _ ache and it was getting harder to breathe. He was just  _ using _ Anya only to crush her. He’d never felt this awful about a stupid con before.

He tried to hand back over the pouch of rubles and Anya shoved it back into his grasp.

“I don’t want your money!”

“It’s  _ your _ money!” Dmitry snapped back at her.

“It’s  _ our _ money! I trusted  _ you _ !” 

There was a sharp edge to the betrayal painted across Anya’s face that stung particularly harsh at the ache growing in Dmitry’s chest with each passing second.

“I  _ said _ I was sorry!” 

“But I didn’t trust you enough.” Anya sighed and seemed to be fighting some sort of internal battle, looking up at Dmitry stubbornly, “Now  _ you  _ close  _ your  _ eyes.”

A laugh of disbelief slipped past Dmitry’s lips, “What for?”

“You’re the stubbornest person I’ve ever met! Almost as stubborn as me!” Anya groaned and looked at Dmitry pointedly until he rolled his eyes then promptly shut them, “Now, hold your hand out.”

Dmitry sighed and reluctantly held out his hand toward her, keeping his eyes shut. He heard a bit of shuffling before the softness of Anya’s fingers brushed against the palm of Dmitry’s hand and something oddly shaped and cold rested in it now. 

“...alright, open.” Anya told him softly.

Dmitry opened his eyes and looked down at his hand, stunned at what he saw before him.

“It’s a  _ diamond! _ ” He exclaimed, picking it up with his other hand to examine the small diamond before him.

“A nurse at the hospital found it sewn in my underclothes.” She admitted, watching Dmitry as he examined the diamond, utter disbelief on his face, “She hid it for me until I could leave the hospital. She didn’t tell anyone other than me, I’m not sure why. She told me not to tell anyone until I absolutely had to. I...I needed to find someone I could trust.”

Dmitry wheeled around and finally looked at Anya, “You’ve had it  _ all this time _ without telling me?!”

Anya seemed surprised at the anger laced in Dmitry’s tone, “Yes.”

“Why?!” He snapped.

Dmitry had gone out of his way to show Anya a secret place of his, somewhere that was special to him only for her to be keeping a secret. It wasn’t right of him to be getting this angry when he too was keeping something from her, not telling her about the true motives to get her to Paris, but the secret stung after he outright bared part of his weakest self for her.

“It’s the only thing I have! Without it, I have nothing!” She exclaimed defensively.

“How do you know I won’t take it now and you’ll never see me again?” He challenged.

Anya scoffed, “I don’t think you will.”

“If you weren’t a girl, I’d…” Dmitry wasn’t quite sure where he was going with that, overwhelmed suddenly by the realization that they were actually going to  _ get out _ .

He lurched forward and wrapped his arms around the small girl, hugging her tight and twirling her around. Anya squealed, clutching desperately at Dmitry’s broad shoulders until he sat her down. The pair laughed and Dmitry was practically beaming down at Anya, the girl doing the same in return.

Loud, sudden footsteps sounded out as Vlad ran down the street and was wheezing, having a hard time catching his breath.

“There you two are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you both! Disaster! The Yusupov palace, it’s been raided!” He exclaimed, babbling on about how they were done for until Dmitry held out the diamond, finally catching Vlad’s attention, “—mother of Moses!”

“She had it all along!” Dmitry said giddily with a laugh.

“I didn’t trust either one of you with it!”

“I don’t blame you, but never mind! All is forgiven! I love you, Anya!” Vlad laughed and scooped Anya up for a tight bear hug.

Dmitry knew they had to act fast now that the Bolsheviks had raided where they were once staying. If they wanted to get out, they had to get out  _ now _ .

“Vlad,” Dmitry started, resting his hand on the older man’s shoulder to get his attention, “I’m trusting you to get the exit papers.”

“Done!” Vlad nodded, turning and already rushing down the street.

“Hurry!” Anya called after him, “There’s a train at midnight leaving the Finland station!”

“I’ll fence the diamond!” Dmitry exclaimed and turned, starting to head toward the alleyway that would led back to the black market so that he could fence the diamond and get their money.

He paused upon seeing Anya not following him, instead going the other way, “Where are you going?” He called after her.

“To get the rest of my work’s wages, every ruble counts!” Anya yelled back, the three all rushing off in their respective directions.

As Dmitry rushed through the mostly quiet streets of Petersburg he couldn’t help but think one thing:  _ I’m finally saving myself, Papa _ .


	7. 007

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me!
> 
> Actually I'm a garbage can who's had like. no time to write. Coupled with a new job position and working too many hours, I haven't had inspo in the last few months. Leave it to me joining National Novel Writing Month to force my creative juices flowing. I'm hoping to crank out some more chapters this month and fingers crossed I don't abandon you all again. My apologies and I hope this little chapter makes up for it! Enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think! xo

After doing their respective set out jobs, the three of them had managed to pack up what they could after waiting out the Bolsheviks who had raided the abandoned palace. They were quick, jumping and ready to flee at the first sign of the Bolsheviks returning. It wasn’t like they had much to pack, just the few extra spare sets of clothing they had. They made their way to the Finland station, a sort of bittersweet quiet settling upon the trio. They were leaving Russia, but that also meant leaving the only thing they had ever known.

Upon arriving at the train station, Vlad handed Anya and Dmitry their train tickets and their papers they needed to leave the country. 

“It’s a special train,” Vlad began to explain to the pair as he tugged them along hurriedly with him, “Aristocrats and intellectuals, everyone the Bolsheviks want to get rid of. We’ll be traveling as apart of the Diaghilev and the Ballets Russes, they’ve taken Paris by storm.”

Dmitry looked down at his papers then back up to glance around at the others around them, noting how their papers seemed to be a different color than everyone else’s. He opened his mouth to ask Vlad why this was when he saw a well dressed man approaching Anya. He eyed the man warily, taking a slight step forward as he got closer. The man dropped down to a knee and grabbed Anya’s hand, Dmitry instantly sucking in a sharp breath and quickly reaching out as if he was about to grab Anya to pull her away. Anya quickly hid her papers behind her back and the man kissed her hand. 

“God bless you!” He exclaimed.

Dmitry slowly dropped his extended hand in confusion, exchanging a bewildered look with Vlad then looking back to watch in silence as the man stood once more and walked off.

“I recognize that man.” Vlad finally spoke up, “He’s the Count Ipolitov, he’s not just an aristocrat, but an intellectual as well….he’s a dead man on both counts.” 

The piercing sound of the train’s whistle sounded out, shaking the crowd gathering from its silent stupor. 

“Train for Budapest on track four. Paris via Budapest on track four. All aboard!” The announcement called out.

“We should go.” Vlad said softly.

The trio had yet to move, all staring out the windows of the train station at the darkness of the landscape before them. They were finally leaving the hell they had been trapped in for so long, but there was a bittersweet air to it. Dmitry was leaving the land that he had come to know as home and never been anywhere but Russia. Now, at almost thirty years of age, he was leaving the only place he had called a home to find a new one. It’s all he’s ever wanted, to go from just surviving each day to now being able to  _ live _ .

So why did it leave a heavy feeling in his chest?

The squeeze of his shoulder brought Dmitry back to reality. He looked over and saw Vlad nod and gesture at the waiting train before walking off toward it. With one last glance out the window, Dmitry gently grabbed Anya’s elbow and gave her arm a small, comforting squeeze.

“Come on, Anya. We have to go.”

She jerked from her own stupor and looked up at Dmitry with wide eyes, nodding her head and following him to the train. 

It was quiet, almost eerily so, as they entered the train and found that all their seats were squished together on one row in a tiny compartment. Vlad made an irritated face and huffed as they sat down. The quiet continued, Dmitry brushing off the twinge of sadness that he felt weighing down heavily in his chest. It was a fresh start, just what he needed. 

What they  _ all  _ needed. 

The loud whistle of the train sounded and pulled forwarded as it started to move. A man was attempting to find a seat in the filled seats and finally stopped at their compartment, gesturing at Anya.

“Can I sit here?”

Anya heaved an annoyed sigh and patted Dmitry’s arm until he shifted over, causing Vlad to move over reluctantly as well. 

“This is outrageous! I paid for  _ first class _ !” Vlad exclaimed, his shoulders hunched up while they were pushed together in the small compartment. “We should be having champagne! Caviar!” 

“There is no more first class, everyone is  _ equal  _ now.” Dmitry snorted at Vlad’s dramatics. 

Vlad gave Dmitry a long suffering look, “You don’t have to sound so damn happy about it.” 

Anya waved her hand over her face as the man beside her smoked freely in the compartment. Dmitry’s nose wrinkled up at the putrid smell of the tobacco. 

“How  _ dare _ you smoke without my permission!” Anya exclaimed, both men giving Anya a slightly confused look at where she was potentially going with this.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” The man snorted with a roll of his eyes.

“I am the Grand Duchess, Anastasia Romanova!” Anya exclaimed, batting back at the men as they frantically tried to stop her from continuing on. 

The man stared at Anya with wide eyes, abruptly standing. “I’m in a compartment with a crazy woman!” He practically shrieked as he hurried out of their compartment, the sound of others laughing as he hurried out to relay the story. 

“Warn us next time before you do that!” Dmitry all but hissed out, resisting the urge to just keep a hand over the girl’s mouth for the rest of their trip so she couldn’t blurt anything else that might cause them to run into trouble. 

“I wanted to see what it felt like saying I was her!” She retorted back defensively. 

“It’s a  _ long _ trip, you’ll have plenty time to practice.” Vlad said in a dry tone, he sighed and rubbed at his temple tiredly. “Your first challenge in Paris will be the Dowager Empress’s lady in waiting, Lily, the Countess Malevsky Malevitch. Nobody has access to her majesty without her.”

Dmitry snorted and shook his head in disbelief, “She sounds like a dragon.”

“Quite the opposite, actually.” Vlad mused with a wistful smile on his face. “Lily was beautiful, voluptuous, married...everything I look for in a woman.” He sighed happily.

Dmitry and Anya shared an amused look before looking back at Vlad who seemed lost in the past. 

“She gave me a watch studded with diamonds.”

“Did you love her?” Anya inquired, leaning across Dmitry.

Vlad paused, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Madly, darling.” He then leaned in to mutter to Dmitry, “But I love  _ the watch  _ more.” He laughed with Dmitry as Anya rolled her eyes. 

“What happened to it?” Dmitry asked curiously.

“Gone with the old Russia. Like everything else.” Vlad huffed. 

Dmitry scoffed and rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat as Anya rolled her eyes as well. She cracked open her book and started to read over what looked like one of the history books Dmitry and Vlad had acquired about the Romanovs. Her leg was bouncing up and down nervously all while Vlad seemed to be lost in his own world, reminiscing. 

“I’m going to take a walk! Be back.” Anya announced abruptly, standing up to leave their compartment to walk up and down the hall as she read. 

Dmitry snorted and glanced out the window, tapping his legs with his hands impatiently. He had been waiting for years for this chance, to finally be  _ free _ of Russia and the regime they lived under. It seemed like this was his only shot to get out and  _ stay  _ out. He didn’t want anything to mess it up. On the other hand, he also wanted to make sure nothing went awry to give Anya the chance at the family she deserved. She had been growing on him ever since their night shared on the briskly cold streets of Petersburg, Dmitry reflecting on his childhood and the father he missed dearly. 

Standing up, Dmitry peered out of their compartment to see Anya pacing back and forth, muttering to herself as she read the book.

“Hey,” He greeted gently, stepping out of the compartment out into the hall with her.

“Hi! Uh, hi.” Anya greeted casually with a startled smile, holding the book to her chest. 

Dmitry looked amused and nodded toward her, “Your hands are shaking.” He noted.

Anya hid her hands and the book behind her back at the remark, forcing a more ‘serene’ smile on her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” Dmitry snorted, “It’ll be fine. Just start smiling and-”

“-and stop wondering why I said yes?” Anya interrupted.

Dmitry rolled his eyes and huffed, “Funny. I was going to say and to stop worrying so much. Just...trust me, maybe?” He forced a believable smile, his heart beating rapidly. 

Anya’s shoulders relaxed and a genuine smile graced her pink lips as she gave Dmitry a little nod.

He cleared his throat and nodded back toward the compartment, “Pacing isn’t going to help with anything. Let’s go sit down and try to endure the rest of this trip without too much trouble. It’s going to be hard enough as is without the worrying.”

“Why’s that?”

“Vlad snores.” Dmitry deadpanned, Anya bursting into a fit of giggles at the remark and Dmitry grinned in response. 

She followed Dmitry back into the compartment and sat beside him once more. The rolling hills of the Russian countryside whirled passed them as the train continued to truck along. The further into the trip they got, the sleepier Anya seemed to get. Slowly, her head flopped onto Dmitry’s shoulder upon her falling asleep. Dmitry glanced down and smiled softly at the sight, hesitantly leaning his head against hers. His own eyes shut and he allowed himself to finally relax enough to fall asleep as well. 

The abrupt stopping of the train, jerking Dmitry’s body was what woke him. His arm flew out to stop Anya’s body from jerking forward. Vlad looked just as confused as the still half asleep pair. 

“We stopped. Why did we stop?” Anya asked. 

“I don’t--” Dmitry cut himself off by the sound of men loudly asking to see everyone’s papers. 

A pair of Bolshevik guards stopped by their compartment, standing tall and all too menacing. Dmitry’s heart constricted painfully in his chest as the panic started to build. 

“Papers.” One of them demanded to see.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Is there a problem?” Vlad asked casually as he reached into Dmitry’s satchel to grab their papers. Only Dmitry saw the way his hand slightly trembled upon reaching into his bag. 

“We’re looking for someone who’s illegally leaving the country.” The other informed them. 

“Didn’t have the right papers, eh?” Vlad chuckled in a fake manner, pulling the papers out.

“He had the right papers, just the wrong name. Count Ipolitov.” 

Before any of them could respond, a gunshot sounded out. Anya screamed and immediately hid her face against Dmitry’s shoulder, her entire body trembling. His hand hovered over her shoulder as the officers ran toward the sound.

Vlad slowly stood from his seat, hiding his shaking hands out of view. “I’m going to go see what happened.” 

“We  _ know  _ what happened.” Dmitry said in a low tone. 

Anya sobbed at Dmitry’s response, hiding her face further against the fabric of Dmitry’s coat.

“Calm her down!” Vlad demanded, heading out of the compartment, turning back at the last second to look at the pair, “Any tears will betray us.” He said gravely, hurrying off. 

Dmitry sighed and turned to look down at the sobbing woman who was shaking against his chest, “We’ll be safe soon, Anya.” He said in a gentle tone.

“That’s what the soldiers said when they were pointing their guns at us.” Anya said, almost panicked as she looked up, tears staining her pale cheeks. 

“What soldiers?” Dmitry asked in confusion, his hand finally resting on Anya’s arm. 

“They said they were taking us somewhere safe. Toby’s little heart was beating against mine. ‘They’re decent men,’ I told him. ‘They won’t harm us’.” Anya seemed to get more panicked as she prattled on, her hands clutching at her coat covering her body. 

Dmitry grabbed Anya’s arms gently and gave her a bewildered look, “No one’s pointing guns at you! You’re taking this too far, Anya!” He all but hissed out. 

“Not if I really am her!” She snapped back. 

Dmitry quickly looked behind him to see no one was there thankfully then looked back at Anya, “Shh!” He exclaimed, lowering his voice, “We’re almost out of Russia. Once we cross the border, you’re safe.” He tried to placate her fear, his own heart beating in his chest like a jackrabbit. 

“You’ve put all these ideas in my head!” Anya scowled, smacking her papers against Dmitry’s chest before looking almost resigned, “I’m beginning to think they might be true.”

Stumped, Dmitry looked at Anya in surprise and was unsure how to respond. Thankfully, he was saved from having to do so by Vlad returning in a panic.

“I’m having a heart attack!” Vlad said in alarm, wheeling around to try to see if anyone was following him, “Three Czechish officers just came aboard with orders to arrest  _ two men,  _ and _ a young woman. _ ”

“That could be anyone!” Dmitry exclaimed.

“I don’t think so.” Vlad brandished a wanted poster that had photos of the three of them.

Dmitry snatched the poster away from Vlad, reading it in alarm. His eyes widened as the flyer accused them of  _ killing  _ an officer and that they were to be immediately detained as soon as found. They had to try to find a way out of this and quick. Their options were quickly growing slim.

“What are we going to do?” Dmitry asked the two, panicking himself now. 

Anya looked around and saw a door that led to the outside of the train cart, immediately smacking at Dmitry’s arm, “We’re getting  _ off _ !” She grabbed her luggage and ran for the door.

“ _ What _ !? But the train is moving again!” Vlad exclaimed as Dmitry grabbed his satchel and ran after Anya. 

The pair climbed onto the outside of the train, hanging onto the railing as the train rapidly picked up speed. 

“Unless you want to end up like Count Ipolitov then I’d  _ follow us _ !” Anya yelled back to Vlad. 

“Get on!” Dmitry yelled, not daring to look back at Vlad as he and Anya clung to the railing. 

Vlad looked torn then groaned, grabbing his own luggage and climbing out onto the outside of the train as well. The passengers on the train were yelling as chaos erupted, all trying to point to guards the threesome hanging onto the outside of the train trying to escape. 

They all looked at each other, seeming to take a deep breath before yelling, “JUMP!” 

Dmitry’s hand clasped onto Anya’s and he took the plunge toward the earth barrling past them. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to come yell at me about all things relating to dimya, my tumblr is dmitrysudayev!


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